


The Passive-Aggressive Floral Arrangement

by Of_Princes_and_Savages



Series: Fake Fiances and True Love [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: "Language" sounds less of a word the more you say it, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, And some bad language, Based on a Tumblr Post, Fluff, Gen, Language of Flowers, Sort of a cute first meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7201232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/pseuds/Of_Princes_and_Savages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle is filling in for her father at Game of Thorns, and receives an irate Mr. Gold who's out to get some indirect revenge against Regina. With flowers. And then later orders a different sort of arrangement...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Passive-Aggressive Floral Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Edited 7/19/'16: This takes places about a year before "Fake Fiances and Free Cakes", and is now part of a series! Yay! I've got an idea for a sequel-sequel to the Swanfire story, but if anyone has an idea of your own, hit up my Tumblr ask box here: http://of-princes-and-savages.tumblr.com/ask

Maurice "Moe" French was as healthy as a horse, and equally sized. In his native Australia he had been a rugby champion in college and no one in his new home of Storybrooke Maine particularly wanted to duke it out with old Moe. When Belle was in high school this came in handy to make certain his daughter safely got home every date-night at ten o'clock.

But even large, healthy florists could fall victim to a misplaced bucket and badly sprained ankle.

So, while her father was recuperating in the apartment over the flower shop, Belle had closed down the library for the week on her town charter approved vacation time she never used for anything beyond the rare cold.

Belle was small enough that most of the 6th graders who came to the library were taller than her, but still had her father's healthy constitution. And she'd spent the better part of her teen years behind the counter, taking orders and making arrangements and pointing out the appropriate bouquet for a harried date or a forgetful lover in a rush.

And up until two forty-one in the afternoon on Thursday, Belle had been handling it perfectly.

The middle days of the week were slow, barring holidays or birthdays. Most people bought flowers for dates on Friday and Saturday, a few flowers went to church on Sunday, and there was reliably a few like Doctor Whale sending "thank you" flowers on Monday.

Of course, lately Doctor Whale had settled into a comfortable routine with Ruby Lucas. Something Ruby told Belle much too much about on a regular basis lately. Not that Belle didn't have a social life but she and Ruby had very different views on what a "social life" meant.

Belle was putting together an arrangement for new mother Ashley Boyd as requested by her child's father, a collection of deep pink roses ("thank you for being in my life,") and daisies (innocence, for their newborn,) with a pretty white ribbon around the vase, when the bell jangled above the door and a familiar step-thump, step, step-thump, step filled the quiet shop.

Mr. Gold?

Belle decided she was mistaken as she stepped out the back, pushing up the sleeves of her faded work shirt. Mr. Gold only ever came to the florist on the first of the month to collect rent. He couldn't be in the shop.

(Belle certainly didn't hope it wasn't Gold because she was dressed in ratty jeans and a washed-out work shirt the color of lint, her hair flying in frizzy curls away from the sloppy bun behind her head, no, not that at all.)

But Belle only had a second of dismissal between the bell ringing and rounding the corner, because then she could see Gold dropping a crisp fifty dollar bill on the counter as he snapped to the shop without seeing her: "Mr. French! What sort of flowers would best say 'fuck you' and how quickly can I have them delivered?"

Belle had spoken to Mr. Gold before. She was really the only person in town that did, aside from Jefferson Milliner but Jefferson was so eccentric nobody counted that. But Belle had never heard him swear before and had never seen him look so, well, royally pissed.

Fairly blinded by rage, in fact, because it took him a moment to notice Belle and the flush drained from his cheeks.

"Ah, Miss French," he blinked, paling further. "I, uh, you...are working today?"

He shifted with both hands on his cane, looking like an uncomfortable schoolboy in his dark suit and light blue shirt and charcoal tie.

It was taking a fair amount of willpower not to touch her unmanageable hair, too, so Belle wouldn't blame him too much. (The humidity in the flower shop was definitely her _least_ favorite part.) Belle nodded in reply, fidgeting with her hands.

"Ah, yes, well until Monday at least. Papa twisted his ankle the other day and I'm filling in."

Gold's fingers were even twitchier than Belle's, which looked odd atop his cane but starting a conversation with a request for speedily delivered "fuck you" flowers would certainly turn an atmosphere awkward. Really, it wasn't the most embarrassing silence Belle had ever had. Having her mother shoot death-glares for the only time in memory at her beet-red father had been worse, if only because 10-year-old Belle didn't quite understand why the ladies wore no clothes in the magazines she found mixed in with their books during their move to Maine. Not that she'd found Gold's sticky magazines.

Not that he seemed like the sort to own sticky magazines. Then again, cultured appearances could be deceiving.

Oh Jesus, she needed a new train of thought.

Belle plastered on a smile and nodded belatedly to the question. "Yes sir, until next Monday. Papa twisted his ankle so, here I am! Now how can help you?"

Gold shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Uh. Help. Well, you see, ah...yes. I would like a flower arrangement, uh, that would...umm..."

"Who's it for, exactly?" Belle chirped.

That brought just the faintest smirk to Gold's lips and a wicked gleam in his brown eyes. "Madam Mayor, of course. If I _have_ to attend her glorified party with the rest of the town council tomorrow evening I think it only fair to bring her flowers."

Belle-and most of Storybrooke through Regina's pet-reporter Sidney Glass,-had heard about Regina Mills big social event. It was supposed to be a charity event to reopen the old playground with new equipment, but clearly Regina would be the star, like the queen of a ball. But it was for a good cause, and Belle supposed it would be fun to get all dressed up for an adult party. But why the Mayor couldn't put more effort into acquiring some funding for Belle to get the three windows smashed out by tipsy teens last month...

A very small and petty part of Belle could suddenly understand that gleam in Gold's eyes.

"Oh, yes, that does seem fair Mr. Gold," Belle nodded, barely keeping herself from giggling like a silly teenager. "I take it the town council's attendance is mandatory?"

"Mandatory _and_ unavoidable, at that," he snorted, obviously displeased. "Believe me, I've tried. Consider this my passive-aggressive retaliation. Now, ah, what sort of flowers would best suit my purpose, Miss French?"

On even ground again, the atmosphere of the humid flower shop taking on the almost-friendly air of one of Gold's visits to the library, Belle smiled kindly and started ticking off options on her fingers.

"Well, there's wild tansy, that declares resistance. A bit of sardony with some scarlet poppies for ironic compliments on her extravagance. But what sort of message are you looking to send precisely?"

Gold leaned his elbows on the counter as Belle pulled out a yellow pad she used for messages and notes and fished around for a functioning pen.

"Hmm, well, what would you send to tell someone that they are insufferably vain and heartless?"

"Well a lovely bouquet of hydrangeas would suit that purpose. They represent boastfulness, heartlessness, 'you are cold', would there be anything else? I recommend a few geraniums, particularly the scarlet ones as they can convey stupidity."

A wolfish grin appeared on Gold's thin lips and Belle bit back an answering grin. If they really were at the library, Belle would be hard-pressed not to yank his tie and kiss him senseless. Only she wouldn't be able to do that outside of a fantasy, still, that was an obscene expression adding all the right lines in his angular face and showing off mischief in his brown eyes.

"Why Miss French," he fairly purred. "Are you suggesting in this passive-aggressive fashion I insult the mayor with red flowers attacking her intelligence? I'm quite shocked."

"Well...to complete that sort of arrangement, I would add foxgloves for insincerity, meadowsweet for uselessness, and perhaps some yellow carnations for disappointment?"

"Hmm. That sounds quite striking. I believe that's what I would like to order."

Belle finally couldn't stop herself from giggling, making a quick note on the pad. "Excellent choice. It'll be ready tomorrow morning. Would you like a card with that?"

"Mm, no," Gold shook his head. "I believe this should suit my needs nicely. Regina will only see it as a gift. I'd rather her earn her geraniums."

"Her _scarlet_ geraniums," Belle found herself correcting. "You wouldn't want oak-leafed geraniums for this sort of arrangement, or lemon-scented or wild ones. Every flower has a different meaning, the colors too."

Oh god. Had she just turned their light flirting into an education on the language of flowers? Shit. What was wrong with her?

Mr. Gold stepped back from the counter, retrieving his fifty dollar bill so that he could hand it to her personally. "I trust you Miss French. I'll see you tomorrow to pick up my arrangement, thank you. Keep the change please."

Belle forced a smile as she took the fifty. The floral arrangement wouldn't cost much more than thirty-five maybe, but her father was always happy to make a little more money in an unexpected place. Belle still double-checked his books as was her job until she was hired at the library, and Game of Thorns was in the black by only the slimmest of margins. Probably because her father had an aversion to advertisement and a dislike of sorting his business papers until tax season.

"Thank you, have a nice day Mr. Gold."

* * *

Gold, contrary to some people's belief that he was a cranky old dragon or wizard living in a dusty, dark cave of a mansion, did own a home computer. It was the 21st century, honestly, it was fairly impossible not to own one.

It also had an Internet connection.

And an accompanying browser and search bar to peruse the Information Highway for specific keywords...

* * *

Despite the, well, spiteful, nature of Gold's flower arrangement, Belle thought it looked rather pretty. The bright red geraniums and the purple-pink foxgloves, the frilly carnations and the little clusters of white on the meadowsweets. The phrase "earn her geraniums" floated through Belle's mind again and she giggled as she took the arrangement out of the big walk-in fridge that they kept the flowers in.

It wasn't more than an hour after Belle opened Game of Thorns that Mr. Gold strode in. Today he wore a deep purple shirt and a black silk tie and Belle smiled at him as she set the arrangement down on the counter.

"Here you are Mr. Gold. What do you think?"

A smirking smile tugged at the corner of the pawnbroker's mouth and Belle tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She knew Mr. Gold was coming to day, but that wasn't why she'd worn a nicer blouse and jeans today, nope, simply how she got dressed this morning.

"Lovely, Miss French, simply lovely," he nodded, satisfied, and pulled out his wallet.

"Uh, you've already paid for the arrangement, sir," Belle hesitated.

"Yes, but I was looking to order some more flowers. Ah," he paused, holding up a finger. "Not for the mayor."

Belle nodded, slowly, and got out the pad and paper to make notes as Gold began listing the flowers.

Red roses...violets...heliotrope...jonquils...

Jonquils?

That gave Belle pause because A) not many people in town knew what the hell a jonquil was, and B) the meaning of jonquils was desire.

Desire, and heliotrope for devotion and violets for...faithfulness...and roses, _red_ roses...

Belle bit her lip, chancing a glance up through her lashes at "The Beast of Storybrooke" who squirmed there on the other side of the counter, looking everywhere but at her. He adjusted his tie and fiddled with his cuffs and brushed the meadowsweets of the flower arrangement...and Belle just grinned widely, folding her hands on the countertop and leaning forwards.

That magnificent, sweet, poor man.

"That's an interesting arrangement, Mr. Gold..." Belle smiled. "Who's it for?"

"Ah, well, that depends, y'see," he cleared his throat, fiddling with the large moonstone ring on his hand. "Ah, I'm occupied tonight at Madam Mayor's little soiree, but perhaps on Saturday, if she, that is you, don't have any other plans-"

"Yes."

"-perhaps I coul-Yes?"

"Yes," Belle repeated with a nod, and not without a silly grin. She wasn't 100% on what Gold was asking...but she didn't quite care either.

Gold swallowed thickly, his brown eyes nervous as he rested his nervous hand on top of the counter. Very close to hers.

"I ah, I'll come 'round the library at, say, seven-thirty? We could go to Granny's, or Tony's if you'd prefer."

"Granny's. I happen to like hamburgers and iced tea."

That seemed more than acceptable to Mr. Gold, who smiled a bit more honestly for the first time that morning. "That sounds perfect. I ah, I suppose you wouldn't actually care if you got flowers or not, being the florist's daughter, would you?"

Belle shrugged, not quite able to wipe the grin off her face.

"Well, I don't mind...but personally you can't go wrong with a box of chocolates."

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the Passive-Aggressive Arrangement goes to _koscheiis_ on Tumblr, who commented on the inspiring Flower Shop AU post I saw exactly what sort of arrangement would work best. [http://koscheiis.tumblr.com/post/145738369188] They also included orange lilies for hatred, but that didn't work with this flower basket I made up.
> 
> Everything else is Belle and Gold being adorable dorks.


End file.
